The One Where Cas Saves Icky
by Protector of the Gray Fortress
Summary: Brief Supernatural Crossover. Post FInale. Spoilers.


**Crackfic to help us deal with the finale of doom.**

**Enjoy.**

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"Dammit, Cas! This better not be another freaking bird. You can't keep bringing me all the wild animals of the forest so I can fix their booboos."

Dean opened the door of his hotel at the sound of wings.

He stopped.

Castiel stood on the threshold, intact with dirty trenchcoat, free of any raccoons, or rabid squirrels. But he was carrying something else.

"I need your help, Dean." He said, adjusting his burden to a more stable position on his shoulders.

The shorter man stood aside. "Yeah, well I hope it's important. I was eating pie."

The angel stepped through and lowered his bundle gently to the bed.

"Mind telling me who that is you're muddying up my bed with?"

It was a man, but beyond that not much was obvious. The guy was covered head to foot in dirt and pine needles, as though Cas had dragged him up out of the ground. "You making a habit of this kind of thing, Cas?"

"He is a Witness of the Lord." Castiel said calmly.

"A Witness…what, do you mean like a prophet?"

"No, a prophet's task is to record the word of the Lord. The task of the Witness is to bear witness of the apocalypse."

Dean crossed his arms and fixed the angel with a smoldering glare. "Cas, we've already stopped the apocalypse."

"Not Lucifer's apocalypse, Dean. I am speaking of Moloch's apocalypse."

"Who the heck is Moloch?"

"He is a prince of Purgatory."

"And he gets his own apocalypse?"

"There have already been many apocalypses, Dean." Cas was distracted, trying to lay the unconscious Witness flat on his back. Dean went to help untangle his legs. Geez the guy was skinny, and nearly as tall as Sam.

"Like that Mayan crap?"

Castiel nodded, pleased at his quick comprehension. "Just as there are many smaller wars in your earthly conflicts, there are large and small wars in Heavenly matters."

"So me and Sammy stopped World War II, but this is like what, the war of 1812?" That was a war, right?

"Actually, Dean, this conflict began with the American Revolution." Cas was busily scraping dirt and mulch from the guy's face. dean could make out a long nose, high cheekbones, and a neat beard.

"I hate to tell you this, Cas. But your witness is dead."

Castiel frowned in mild irritation. He placed his hand over the still chest and his fingers glowed for a moment.

The Witness gasped, then began to cough out chunks of dirt.

Dean swore, having been on the receiving end of Cas' heavy handedness before he felt some sympathy. He hurriedly shoved several pillows behind the guy, helping him to sit up.

"Take it easy, buddy," he smacked the dude's filthy back a couple of times. The gagging and coughing continued, and the man's face wrinkled in distaste.

"You're okay," Dean gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, then looked up at Cas." Is this why you wanted me here? Because I've been through this before?"

Castiel nodded, "He will need care. And I do not fully understand what he may require."

"I'm not a nursemaid, Cas."

The Witness tried to interrupt in a hoarse croaking voice that sent him into another coughing fit.

Dean grabbed a bottle of water (he remembered this bit too), and helped the guy hold it. It was drained in a matter of seconds.

Dirt encrusted lids crawled open, revealing dull, irritated eyes.

"Hey," Dean smiled. "Wakey-wakey, sunshine."

The Witness looked around at the room with its peeling floral wallpaper, at Castiel's placid expression, and finally back up at Dean.

"Might…might I inquire…" he still sounded raspy, but Dean detected a distinctly British accent. He took a better look at the guy, taking in the tall boots, the old fashioned trousers with its row of dirt encrusted buttons, the long blue coat, the hair.

At first glance he looked to be a hipster, but—

"Cas…did you say the revolutionary war?"

"Yes."

"How long has this guy been in the ground?"

The Witness tried to sit up, and ended up slumped against Dean's arms. "Woah, hold your horses there, Washington."

The man looked vaguely affronted, "I am not, General Washington."

"Yeah, okay. Slow down, Revere, before you fall on your face."

The Witness gave a longsuffering sigh. "I must find the Leftenant."

"What leftenant?"

"Abigail Mills is the second Witness," chimed in Cas, helpfully.

Revere fixed the angel with a suspicious look."How do you know such things?"

"He's an angel of the Lord," said Dean, just as Castiel said: "I am an angel of the Lord."

The Witness's eyes grew wide. "You do not resemble any angel I have heard of." He breathed.

"That's 'coz he's in a vessel," said Dean.

"I have already banished one demon from an innocent girl he attempted to use as his vessel," The Witness said warily

"Don't worry about it. He's one of the good guys. He just pulled you out of the ground." Dean looked appreciative. "You're already banishing demons?"

The stranger shook his head, "I do not have time to exchange stories with you. I must retrieve Ms. Mills." He attempted to get off the bed. Dean pushed him back with one hand, looking thoughtful.

"Do you know where this Abigail Mills is? We can probably get in touch with her. We have these things now, called cellphones. They're magical boxes that can…"

"I have been well-informed on the use of a Cell Phone," said the Witness, retrieving a much battered flip=phone from his pocket. The top was barely hanging on its hinges. "Sadly, purgatory has poor telephone reception." With that the he pushed his way to his feet and promptly fell on his face.

"Purgatory huh? I'd better give you a ride," Dean said, hauling the unfortunate man off the ground. "We can talk on the way."

"I cannot accept your assistance without knowing your name," the Witness insisted.

"Dean Winchester, that one over there Is Cas."

"Castiel," The angel clarified. "Dean, I cannot stay."

"That's nothing new, Cas. It's okay. I've got Mr. Jefferson here."

"My name is Ichabod Crane."

"So what are you like George Washington's BFF?"

"Is that another acronym?"

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**Later, after much demon butt-kicking, Castiel and Ichabod start in on a conversation about the rise and fall of ancient empires, Abbie and Dean order pie, while Jenny and Sam sit and gripe about bossy older siblings.**

**I know it is actually spelled Lieutenant. Please direct any complaints about Colloquialisms to Mark Twain.**


End file.
